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My 2023 was a year that might as well have been three. Harrowing, exciting, relief, and sorrow—some things fell so perfectly into place, and others threw me for a rollercoaster-like loop.
Last year felt like a whirlwind and because of that, I never really had time to reflect or process events (good and bad) in a timely manner. But recently, my body and mind have forced me to slow things down and retreat within myself. Only now do I have the patience to pen these thoughts down, along with seeking therapy again with the hope of starting a new healing journey.
I am proud and grateful for all the things I have accomplished and gained in the last year, but I would be lying if I said everything was perfect. There are so many traumas from childhood to present-day that I have been able to cope with or quash in order to survive as a high-functioning and high-achieving misunderstood woman with depression, but I do want a fair chance to finally heal.
————————————————– 𝕊𝔾𝔻 ————————————————-
A country somehow loved by many will unfortunately never be loved by me. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake away the trauma I endured (maybe one day, I did recover from an eating disorder and I never thought that would happen) and at the same time, I will never be silent or afraid to speak up about it.
I can go on and on about how my experience in Italy was so distressing (and I have through written and audio mediums, lol), but what currently stands out the most is how much it has dampened my ability to enjoy neighboring countries too.
Almost a year has passed since I left without a second glance, but even with the comforts of home softening the corners of memories that were once so sharp and rough, my recent trip to Portugal/Barcelona in December 2023 was an odd experience for me mentally. I still felt tired, and seeing things like buildings and words and church squares that reminded me of Italy (what one would expect amongst other Latin/Southern European regions) unintentionally opened up mental wounds that hadn’t quite healed yet. This seemed so bizarre, as I had just been to Porto earlier that year, praising that it had been “so different from Milan in all the best ways!”. What happened?
All of these current emotions can be due to a mix of things. There are my personal traumas from living in Italy, but I could also be culturally bored with having lived there for so long, and that influencing my experience in other parts of Europe I thought I would enjoy better. There are so many variables at play here, but I will never be Italy’s biggest fan, that’s for sure.
I can permanently straighten my hair, paint my nails, and pay for his round-trip ticket across the Atlantic, but that doesn’t mean he will love me again.
No one likes talking about a break-up, because it feels like the biggest form of failure—especially if you’re the one that didn’t want it to happen. But I always prioritize honesty, and we need to be more open about our experiences instead of holding it all in… which hurts even more.
There is one person I will always associate my time in Italy with. For a little over two years, he was “my rock” in Italy, and like most relationships, we had our good and bad.
Up until October 2022, I thought it had been mostly good? I felt like I was sacrificing a lot for him from my end, especially in regards to finding a better job in Italy when my toxic post-doc environment began to sand me down raw. At the same time, I thought these sacrifices were investments for a bright “happily ever after”…one would hope that’s how it would go, right?
One Thursday after an exhausting train ride home from work, I stopped at a local poke shop to pick up dinner and casually began my weeknight routine of lounging in bed until falling asleep to Real Housewives. However, I received a long text that rocked that night and beyond—essentially, he had fallen out of love with me.
It was the first time in years I “pulled an overnighter” though I’d rather it had been for work than a mental crisis. The first people I messaged were my sister and best friend, and soon after I was bawling to my dad, the few people in my support system who seemed a million time zones behind.
While I would never act on hurting myself, in all transparency, those thoughts did pass. 😔
From that night onwards until our “official” break-up almost 8 months later, anxiety, insecurity, sadness, low self-esteem, and dejection ate away at me, even if I could pretend everything was fine for those I needed to be fine for (people at work). I didn’t want to hyper-focus on his every move, online and off, but how could I feel calm when a bomb was just dropped on me? Being around him every time he opened his phone set my heart racing. I knew I had no control in this situation, but I was still figuring out my exit plan. In the meantime, I had to at least try to “win back” the love he once had for me…I had to troubleshoot, the one thing in my life I’ve never lacked motivation in.
I consider myself a practical person (hence, my fervent application submissions for jobs back home when I realized my personal life in Italy was looking dire), yet part of me also wanted things to magically fall back to how they once were.
But even when I had the greenlight of a decent job to return home to, and he agreed to visit me in my new city for a week—to give it one more chance—my gut told me this was it. Two days after he arrived, I couldn’t help but cry at least once every day until he left, because it was it.
It truly was an odd experiment looking back. Heck, it could have been part of a reality show on failing relationships (will a one-week getaway end with him saying, “yes, I’ll stay with you now”?). At least the relationship ended on my turf, but that didn’t mean the uncontrollable sobbing would automatically stop.
With time, the darkness my mind was clouded with slowly dissipated. Distractions (both desired and unnecessary) have helped me to move on the best I can, but that first relationship (when it fails) will always leave a scar.
Things can be “good”, but if the underlying trauma hasn’t been processed, depression will rear its ugly head again.
Speaking of distractions, I dove headfirst into doing what I could to move onto the next (and hopefully happy) chapter. Fostering a cattle dog, attempting new creative pursuits like modeling and dance, finally landing my dream job (relevant to my education), attempting new relationships (both friendship and romantic), and living a comfortable life thanks to the financial perks of said dream job happened in a matter of months. Like I mentioned earlier, it was like living multiple lives in a matter of a year.
Yet even if good things happen, I still yearn to grow and achieve. If I put in the effort and I don’t see the pay-off, it’s hard to be happy with things as they are. Anger has given me a lot of power in the past few years. I’d even say it was my only way to survive for so long, which is difficult for most to relate to.
In moments when I’ve felt like no one is in my corner, I’ve retreated. Retreating isn’t failure—it means it is time to rest. The world can be cold and heartless a lot of the time, and we only have so much energy. It’s normal to want to be around people, but to also desire alone time.
Maybe it’s the recent freezing temperatures, but nothing sounds more exciting than staying in bed all day, focusing on restoring my energy versus how to please others.
————————————————– 𝕊𝔾𝔻 ————————————————-
I like to give myself a word for each year. Normally I “feel” it going into the year, and for 2024, I feel “restoration” is my guiding word.
“Some common synonyms of restore are refresh, rejuvenate, renew, and renovate. While all these words mean “to make like new,” restore implies a return to an original state after depletion or loss.”
At 31 years old, I’m not sure what that original state really is. When I was 10? But I have a stronger urge to be selfish, in a way that I put myself first like never before. I think that’s the first step to restoration…
I see it manifesting as making spontaneous trips or doing activities I want to do without seeking permission or asking/thinking about others first. It’s leading the pack without worrying if there is a pack behind me. It’s preparing to be alone, but open to genuine company.
It’s no surprise that my body and mind want to slow down after a high intensity year. I need every morsel of energy I have (which is not a lot to begin with) to contribute to this restoration process.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all this, the only person I can truly count on for a lifetime is me: I’ve got to give her all I’ve got if I am going to have anything left to give.
